


Our very destiny hinges upon which one we elect to follow

by coldflashwavebaby



Series: God Brought Us Together for a Reason [3]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Demonic Possession, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Torture, London, M/M, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 02:44:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21292331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldflashwavebaby/pseuds/coldflashwavebaby
Summary: Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was Clyde Mardon and those horrible yellow eyes right before he pulled the trigger. Jay and Len spent days trying to convince him it wasn’t his fault, but he knew better. The demon was after him. It wanted him. That’s the only reason it was targeting everyone else.
Relationships: Barry Allen/Leonard Snart, Hartley Rathaway/David Singh
Series: God Brought Us Together for a Reason [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1181681
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40





	Our very destiny hinges upon which one we elect to follow

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to update on Halloween, but life got in the way. I hope you enjoy this :) I already know what my next story is going to be, but if anyone has any ideas about other cases Len and Barry could have, I'd love to hear about them in the comments!

_ Singing in the Rain _ was Barry’s favorite movie growing up. His uncle told him it was his mom’s favorite not long after moving him to the orphanage, and Barry watched it until the VHS tape broke. 

So, when Len surprised him by driving two towns over for a surprise date at a drive-in to watch it, he couldn’t believe it. 

Not that they were really watching much of the movie. Barry was straddling Len in the driver’s seat, his lips attacking his boyfriend’s--because that’s what they were after dating for the past four months, even if they hadn’t said the words yet--while Len’s hand ran up and down his body, like he wanted to touch every inch. 

Barry’d never been one for dating. He was bisexual, but he was never interested in the girls at the orphanage and the boys were...well, Catholic. Being with Len was new and exciting and terrifying, all at once. 

“Barry…” Len whispered, grabbing him by the hips and pulling him further into his lap. Those hands slid down from his hips to his thighs, inching inward little by little as Len moved his lips to Barry’s neck. 

God, it was wonderful. Why were people so against love and sex? So far, it was pretty great. 

Cell phones, however, sucked. 

His phone started vibrating on the dashboard, pulling Barry’s thoughts from what he’d  _ rather  _ be thinking about. 

“Aren’t...you going...to get that?” Len asked between kisses to his neck. 

Barry groaned. “I wasn’t planning on it. There are so many better things to do.” 

Len chuckled and pulled his mouth away. “See who it is. It could be an emergency.” 

Huffy, Barry grabbed his phone and checked the caller ID.  _ Uncle Jay. _ He sighed. Jay never called unless it was important. 

Len glanced at the screen. “You should call him back. It could be about your dad.” 

He hated it when Len was right. Pushing the redial button, he put the phone on speaker. It rang three times before Jay answered. 

_ “Barry? Sorry to interrupt your date…” _

“It’s alright,” he sighed. “What’s up?”

_ “I need you and Leonard to come to a meeting tomorrow morning at the church. There are some officials who would like to meet with you.” _

Len frowned.  _ Officials?  _ he mouthed. 

Barry shrugged. “Like, city officials?” 

_ “No, like the Vatican.”  _

Len’s eyes widened, and Barry was almost positive he had the same expression. “You mean like  _ the  _ Vatican? With the Pope and everything? Are we in trouble?”

_ “I can’t tell you much, Barry. Just that you and Leonard need to be here at seven-thirty tomorrow morning.” _

“Uh...okay….” He hung up on his uncle--probably rudely, but he too distracted to care. 

Mood ruined, Barry climbed out of Len’s lap and back into the passenger seat. Both were struck dumb by the summons. 

“Why would someone from the Vatican want to talk with us?” Len asked. 

Barry shrugged. “Just because I was raised by the Church doesn’t mean I’m going to pretend like I can guess what they’re thinking. Maybe they heard we did that exorcism at the Ramon house without approval?”

“Or they know about your demon,” Len suggested. “Did those nuns at the orphanage go running their mouths?”

Barry shook his head. “Nah, they’re pretty loyal to my uncle. He took the pictures and told them he’d handle it. They have no reason to think otherwise.”

The rest of the night was filled with questions and speculations. When the movie was done, Len drove back into town, while Barry drifted off to sleep with his head against the window. Honestly, it was the best sleep he’d gotten in months. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was Clyde Mardon and those horrible yellow eyes right before he pulled the trigger. Jay and Len spent days trying to convince him it wasn’t his fault, but he knew better. The demon was after him. It wanted him. That’s the only reason it was targeting everyone else. 

One night, he even dreamed about his mom. He wondered if she’d jumped because she knew about the demon, about what it would do. Maybe she’d rather die than have a cursed son. 

When he was with Len, though, it was like Eobard said--there was  _ light _ . Len was his light, and just his presence gave Barry the sleep he craved. He didn’t even wake up when Len moved him or when the sun rose through the windows. 

It was a knock on the glass that made him stir. 

At first, he thought it was a bird tapping on his bedroom window. He ignored it for a moment, but lips against the back of his neck made him stir. 

“I think we’re being summoned,” a low, drawling voice whispered against his skin. 

Sighed annoyedly, Barry forced his eyes open. It was only then he realized that he was still in Len’s car. More specifically, in the backseat of Len’s car with Len spooning him. Jay was looking in the window with a smirk, and Barry shot up off the seat. 

When he opened the door, Jay laughed. “When I said to be here, I didn’t mean ‘park outside the cathedral and spend the night in your boyfriend’s car’.”

“It was my bad,” Len said, sitting up and stretching. “Barry was sleeping so well, I didn’t want to risk waking him up. I figured that this was the best option.”

Jay hummed but didn’t comment. “It’s a good thing I thought ahead and brought your nice suit in. I’m sure we have something that’ll fit you too, Len.”

Len snorted. They climbed out of the car and followed Jay into the building, past the chapel and into the church offices. He handed Barry one of his old suits, and Len a suit that had to be a hell of a lot older, if the plaid pattern meant anything. 

Barry resisted the urge to laugh as he darted into one of the other rooms to change. 

\----------

They all met in a large conference room that was rarely used, except on special occasions. Though, Barry supposed, a visit from the Vatican was a special occasion. 

There was a man sitting at the table when Jay led Barry and Len inside. He was an attractive man, not much older than Barry, with what seemed like a permanent scowl. 

“Barry, Leonard, this is Father Oliver from the Vatican.” 

The man nodded in acknowledgment. Barry smiled. “Honored to meet you...I hope.” 

“The honor is mine,” Father Oliver replied, though his tone was short. “I’m assuming your uncle has told you the nature of our business.”

Len answered for him. “Father Jay isn’t exactly the most enlightening man I’ve ever met. We were just told that we were needed.”

Father Oliver gave a nod, and Jay motioned for them to sit. Len stepped in front of Barry, pulling back the chair in front of Father Oliver for him. Barry tried not to blush as he took the seat. Len sat beside him, while Jay hovered behind them. 

Father Oliver reached into a bag at his feet and pulled out a newspaper. “This is a newspaper from the United Kingdom.” He slid it across the table so they could read the headline. 

_ WEREWOLF IN LONDON?  _

Barry and Len shared a look, and the latter raised an eyebrow. “A tabloid?”

“This man, Hartley Rathaway, reportedly transformed in front of one of his parents’ employees and nearly killed him,” Oliver explained. “He had to lock himself in a closet until he finally passed out.” 

Len snorted. “Then they’re lying. Or crazy. There’s no such things as werewolves.” 

But Barry’s eyes were locked on the picture under the headline. He frowned, picturing the man in the photo with animalistic features. His heart stopped. “It’s true,” he said, cutting over Len and the Father’s conversation. 

Len froze, and the whole room turned to stare at him. “Barry,” Len asked, “how do you know? Did you have a vision?”

“No, but someone else did.” He looked back at Jay, who was frowning at him. “When I went to visit Dad, he was talking about me being in London. And he drew this man as an animal on his walls.” 

Oliver frowned. “Does your father have the gift?”

Barry shared a look with his uncle, and Jay cleared his throat. “My brother had an encounter with a demonic spirit when Barry was very young. He was institutionalized, but his doctor recently called Barry about an incident.”

Barry nodded and prayed that the priest wouldn’t pry. Len seemed to pick up on it, because he reached under the table and took Barry’s hand. “Anyway, what does this ‘werewolf’ have to do with us?” 

“Well,” Oliver said, “as you know, the Church has offices that keep an eye on paranormal events, such as this. We evaluate hoaxes and determine if we’re going to send someone on our behalf to help. This case has been...difficult for us. Some believe that this Hartley is a young man who has been tortured and possessed by a demon from a young age. But, not enough of the office agreed to send someone.”

He looked to Barry. “That’s when I received word from your uncle a few months ago, that you and your companion had successfully cast a powerful incubi from its home. Don’t be scared--you aren’t in trouble. If anything, we were all amazed by it. So, we came to an agreement. Neither of you are connected to the Church directly. With our blessings, we’d like to send you to London to help this young man.”

Len squeezed Barry’s hand, his eyes narrowing. “What’s the catch? There’s always a catch.” 

“Leonard…” Jay whispered in warning, but Oliver held up a hand to silence him. 

“It’s fine. I understand your concern. There is a catch, an important one. You must know that, while you carry the Church’s blessing, you will not carry our protection. Should something happen, such as Hartley not making it, we will deny you being sent by us.”

“There it is.” Len pushed to his feet, dragging Barry up with him. “Thank you. We will take it into consideration and let you know.”

“We must know in three days,” Oliver replied. “I will be leaving early Friday morning.”

“Got it,” Len snapped, dragging Barry behind him as he strode out of the room. Barry knew they were going to get hell from Jay later, but he followed his boyfriend out of the offices and outside the church.

When they made it to the car, Len white-knuckled the steering wheel. “I don’t like the idea of people using you as a weapon. You aren’t a sword for them to swing, and they can’t treat you like you are.”

“But they didn’t want me,” Barry pointed out. “They wanted  _ us. _ No one in that room--not even Jay--knows about what happened in that room at Cisco’s. Only the two of us. And I think that you and I are the only ones who know what really got rid of that poltergeist. Maybe they just need a good exorcist-slash-demonologist and a medium. And even if they don’t, that man suffering in London deserves some help. My dad had that vision for a reason, and I think this could’ve been it.”

Len’s head fell to the steering wheel, and he let out a drawn-out groan. “Why are you like this? So...perfect and good all the time, putting others before yourself. Just once, would it kill you to be selfish?” 

An image went through Barry’s head of Clyde, kneeling in front of him with those yellow eyes staring back at him. 

“Maybe because I’m scared,” he whispered. “And this is the only thing that keeps me from going crazy.” 

He glanced over at Len, who was watching him with sad eyes. Barry sighed. He wasn’t trying to guilt Len or upset him. “Look, why don’t we go home and think about it? I need to visit my dad tomorrow anyway.” He buckled his seatbelt, avoiding Len’s eyes. 

The rest of the ride back to Barry’s apartment was silent, both lost in their own heads. 

\----------

Dr. Wells was already waiting in the hallway for him when Barry showed up to the sanitarium. He motioned for Barry to follow him to his office. Once inside, he shut the door and turned to make tea. 

“What brings you back so soon, Mr. Allen? There haven’t been any more incidents since your last visit.”

“I…” He considered his words carefully. “I might be going on a trip in a few days. In fact, I’m almost positive I will be. I wanted to see him before I left.”

Dr. Wells nodded as he turned back around and handed him a cup of tea. “Romantic trip?”

“Work trip,” Barry clarified. “I’m heading to England to do some work for my uncle.”

Dr. Wells took a seat and sipped his tea. “That sounds exciting. Your father is doing some leisure time he’s earned, but…” He checked his watch. “He should be done in about five minutes.”

Barry nodded, sipping his tea slowly. 

“Are you okay, Mr. Allen?” Dr. Wells asked, looking him over with a curious frown. “You seem a bit more down than you were the last time you were here.”

He sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know. I tried to help someone a couple of months ago, and it didn’t work. In fact, I think I may have made the whole situation worse, and he killed himself in front of me.”

Dr. Wells’ eyes widened. “I apologize for prying…”

“It’s okay,” Barry assured. It wasn’t okay--every time he closed his eyes, Eobard was there, almost like he was with him. But Dr. Wells didn’t know that, and there was no way he could’ve. “It’s been hard, though.”

“Was it a close friend?”

Barry shook his head. “I didn’t even really know him. I wish I hadn’t gotten involved, though.”

“You’re a kind soul. That doesn’t make what he did your fault.” 

He didn’t know why, but the validation from Dr. Wells soothed the hurt in his heart. 

Wells checked his watch again and sat his cup down. “Your father should be on his way back to his room now.”

Barry nodded and rose to his feet. “In all honesty, Dr. Wells, do you think that my dad has any chance of getting better?”

Wells sighed, cover his mouth in thought. “Between the two of us, Mr. Allen, it would take a miracle for your father to get better. We don’t even know what caused his mental break. At first, we thought it was grief, but now I’m thinking there might be a deeper cause. He keeps mentioning demons and abbeys and yellow eyes.”

Barry frowned. An abbey? He’d never heard his father or uncle mention an abbey. He didn’t mention that to the doc, though. Instead, he nodded along. “I understand.”

Dr. Wells smiled tightly and led him out of the office and down the hall to Henry Allen’s room. It was different than the last time Barry visited. Instead of staring into space, sitting cross-legged on his bed, Henry was sitting with his back against the wall, a book in his lap. 

A smile pulled on Barry’s lips. It seemed like a good day. He stepped inside, leaving Wells outside the door. “Hey, Dad.”

Henry raised his head and smiled. “Hey, Slugger. Good to see you. Come on in.” He patted the bed near his feet. 

Barry accepted the invitation gleefully. It’d been too long since he’d been able to really talk with his dad. 

“How ya been?” Henry asked, setting the book to the side. 

“Good,” Barry said, only lying a little. Other than the Mardon incident, things had been wonderful for him. “I, uh...I’m actually seeing someone.” 

Henry’s eyes widened. “Really? He treating you right?”

Barry furrowed his brow. How had his dad known…

But then, Henry tapped his temple. “Even in my clear moments, I can remember things I’ve been shown. Caught a couple glimpses of your fella. Seems tough, like he can protect you.”

Barry snorted. “Actually, I think I protect him most of the time. He’s a demonologist. We met at a lecture on the supernatural and just...clicked.” 

“I’m happy for you. Not everyone gets love like me and your mother, but this guy seems to really love you. And you look happy.”

His eyes started going a bit far away and worry stirred in Barry’s stomach. “Did you know that your uncle and I were both in love with your mom? It was way back before you were born, before he even thought about being a priest. God, I just knew he’d end up with her. Then, we took that trip...and while he was gone, your mother and I got closer. Fell in love. Got married. Had you.”

He looked at Barry and rested his hand on his, his eyes sad. “I’m sorry. All this darkness is our faults. Mine, Jay’s, your mother’s. No one said anything until it was too late. And you’re paying for that.” 

Barry had no idea what his father meant, but he spoke in riddles more and more often these days. “I came by to let you know that I’m heading out of the country for a bit. I don’t know how long, but I’ll visit again when I get back.”

Suddenly, Henry’s hand tightened around Barry’s. “Don’t go, Barry,” he begged. “Don’t go! It’s what it wants It wants you to do. Please, don’t go!” 

His chest started to heave as he gasped for breath. Panic filled Henry’s face. He was having an attack. 

“HELP!” Barry shouted. “HELP, PLEASE!”

An orderly and a nurse rushed inside. The former ripped Henry’s hand off Barry and ushered him out into the hall, while the nurse laid Henry down and pulled out a syringe of sedative. 

“The abbey, Barry…” Henry called out, reaching towards the door, locking eyes with his son one more time. “Don’t go.” 

That was the last thing he heard before the door to Henry’s room closed, cutting them off in more ways than one. 

\----------

“You know, I’ve been thinking about this whole ‘werewolf’ thing,” Len called from Barry’s bed. He was watching Barry pack for London, since he never  _ un _ packed from working with John. Barry, who was grabbing his toiletries from the bathroom, shook his head good-naturedly. 

Len continued. “I mean, what if this goes public we investigated this? What if it’s all some stupid thing and it ruins any kind of credibility we have in our field?”

“You mean the field where we hunt ghosts and demons for a living?” Barry asked, shoving his toothbrush in his travel pouch. “I don’t think we need to worry too much.”

“What if it’s a hoax?”

“Then, we’ll get a free trip to London and won’t have to fight a werewolf.”

“And what if it  _ isn’t?” _

Barry paused halfway between packing his razor. What if they actually encountered a werewolf? What would they do? What protection did they have against something like that? Would traditional means even work? “I guess we’ll figure it out.”

Len sighed, and Barry heard the bed squeak as he shifted on the mattress. “This is going to end badly. I can feel it.” 

“You’re not the psychic here,” Barry joked, zipping up his travel bag. He carried it out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, only to find Len lying on his side across the sheets, eyes narrowed. 

“Neither are you.” He patted the bed in front of him, and Barry took a seat. Len wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer, so he could press a kiss to his hip. “After what happened with Clyde Mardon, I’m scared for you. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and if I were to lose you, I don’t know if I could take it.” 

Barry resisted the urge to blush. It’d been a long time since someone really vocalized their worry about him. And he knew that Len meant it, because he was an honest man, one who would never lie about having those feelings. 

“Will you stay with me tonight?” Barry asked. “We have to get up early to catch a plane anyway. May as well ride together, right?”

A soft smile stretched on Len’s lips, and Barry couldn’t resist the urge to lean down and kiss him deeply.

\----------

Jay hovered outside of his brother’s room, watching him through the small window on the door. Henry was sitting on the bed, staring at the blank wall beside him. Father Oliver hovered beside Jay, frowning. 

“This was caused by a demon?

Jay nodded. “The night his wife committed suicide in Barry’s nursery.”

“That’s...suspicious timing.”

“He always said the demon made her do it,” Jay replied.

Father Oliver turned to Jay, his eyes narrowed. “Where did this demon come from? It would have to be very powerful to cause all this.”

Jay hung his head. He’d never spoken of Romania to anyone, not even Barry. “Father, have you ever heard of the Abbey of St. Anthony, a few hours outside of Bucharest?” 

Father Oliver shook his head. 

Jay sighed. “It’s an evil place. One that will linger with me for the rest of my life…”

He had never told anyone, but someone needed to know. Just in case he couldn’t make the tough decisions. 

\----------

They were lying in his bed. Len was straddling Barry’s waist, pinning his hands beside his head while he kissed and sucked at his neck. 

Barry panted, wanting to run his hands all over Len’s naked back. They were still wearing their jeans, but he knew those wouldn’t be there much longer. Not with Len grinding down on him like he was. 

“Len…” he moaned as Len delivered a particularly hard bite. “God, yes…”

His boyfriend stayed silent and tightened his grip on Barry’s wrists. A little too tight. 

“Len…” he said, but still he stayed silent. “Len. Len! You’re starting to hurt me!” 

The grip on his wrists was burning. The bites were turning harsh. When Barry turned his gaze up to Len’s hold on him, his hands weren’t human anymore. They were clawed, like an animal. 

“Len, stop!” he begged, thrashing under him. Finally, Len pulled his head back, and Barry stared into a pair of yellow eyes. 

“I always get what I want, Barry,” he growled, only it wasn’t Len’s voice. It was something raspier and deeper. “Maybe instead of killing him, I’ll take your little boyfriend’s body. Make him cry and beg for me to stop while I destroy you, bit by bit.” 

Barry couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move. This wasn’t real--it couldn’t be. 

Eobard released one of his hands to wrap his claws around Barry’s throat, squeezing and ripping into his skin…

Barry woke up with a jerk. He was sitting on the plane, which, according to the voice over the intercom, was making its descent. Len was sitting next to him, his eye mask on and earbuds in. Probably listening to some audiobook. 

Barry forced out a laugh. It was a dream. Eobard wasn’t here. Len was still his. They were miles away from any of that. He rested his head on Len’s shoulder, focusing on his scent, the steady movement of his breaths, the tick at the corner of his mouth when he felt Barry leaning on him. 

When the plane finally landed, there was a man waiting at the airport for them. He was tall, his face scruffy, and his hair dark. When Barry and Len approached, he smiled thinly.

“Mr. Snart and Mr. Allen?” he asked in an American accent. 

Barry nodded. 

“I’m David Singh, head of security for the Rathaway family. They send me to pick you up and bring you to their house.”

Barry glanced over at Len, who quirked an eyebrow. “Thank you. We’re excited to start our investigation.”

Singh’s slight smile fell. “Of course. This way.”

They headed out of the airport to a town car waiting out on the curb. Singh moved to open the back door, but Len sped up so he got there first. Barry pushed down the urge to laugh as Len opened the door for him with a wink. 

He almost didn’t catch the strange look that Singh gave them. Almost. 

Barry slid into the car, shaking his head at Len as he sat beside him. “You’re so dramatic.”

“You love it,” Len shot back. God, did he. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Len’s lips. 

Singh climbed into the driver’s seat about that time, and Barry gave the man a smile. 

“So,” Len asked as the car pulled through the streets of London, “what do you think of this ‘werewolf’, Singh?” 

His voice was a condescending drawl, the way it always was when he was talking to someone that wasn’t Barry. 

Singh looked at him in the rearview mirror and raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Rathaway is a troubled young man. His parents ostracize him for his choice in...company. They even go as far as pretending, on occasion, that they don’t have a son. I was hired about four years ago, originally as his bodyguard. I was promoted a year ago to head of security.”

“Interesting,” Len said, “but that completely circled my question. Have you seen him turn into a werewolf, or are we wasting our time here?” 

Singh went quiet for a moment, and Barry thought that maybe he wouldn’t answer at all. Finally, he sighed. “Once.”

Barry and Len shared a look. Len frowned. “And?”

“He needs help.” There was genuine fear in Singh’s eyes. “I hope to God that’s you.”

\----------

The Rathaway house was enormous. It was more of a mansion than a house, and Len could tell that these people had more money than any person needed. He remembered growing up in the same room as Lisa, being forced to leave home at eighteen by his father because he couldn’t afford to feed him and indulge in his drinking habit. 

Singh pulled up in front of the house, and a man waiting on the front walk opened the door. He escorted them inside, which was even more lavish than the outside. They were led into a sitting room, where a middle aged couple in finery were waiting, sipping tea. When they walked inside, the lady smiled at them. 

“Mr. Allen. Mr. Snart. We were told you were coming.”

Her accent was American, too. So, rich Americans living in England. Probably businessmen and women then. 

“Thank you for sending the car ahead,” Barry said, taking a seat on one of the chairs across from the sofa. Len took the one beside him. “We spoke to Mr. Singh on the way here, and Father Oliver made us aware of the situation, but we haven’t heard the full story. We were hoping to speak with Hartley, as well.”

The Rathaway’s shared distasteful looks at the mention of their son, but Mrs. Rathaway gave the butler a nod. He disappeared from the room. 

When he came back, there was a young man no older than Barry, wearing glasses, with him. Hartley wasn’t like either of his parents. He didn’t flaunt his wealth. Instead, he wore a black hoodie and jeans. He took a seat in one of the chairs on Len’s left, as far from his parents as he could possibly get. 

“These the doctors you sent for?” he grumbled. “Finally gonna have me locked up?”

“Don’t be dramatic, Hartley,” Mr. Rathaway ordered. “These men are from the Church. They want to talk about your condition. But first, I must let you both know,” he turned his attention back to Len and Barry, “if you go to the media with anything you hear or see in this house, our lawyers will make sure that you have nothing to go home to--house, jobs, money. Understand?”

Len nodded. Barry smiled kindly. “Mr. Rathaway, I understand your hesitation, but I promise, we’re only here to help Hartley. We don’t care about press or media. Honestly, I’d rather stay out of it myself, as well.”

Mr. Rathaway looked over Barry, like he was searching for some kind of lie. When he found none, he nodded. “Tell them your story, Hart.” 

Hartley narrowed his eyes. Len could tell that, just because his father ordered him, he didn’t want to. He was about to say something to reassure the kid--he wasn’t good at being personable, but he could try for this kid. 

Barry seemed to catch on, too. He rose from his seat and approached Hartley like he was a wounded animal. Then, he knelt beside his chair and took Hartley by the hand. For a second, Barry just stared at him. Hartley zoned out a bit, like something was passing behind his eyes that no one else could see. After half a minute, it faded, and Hartley gasped.

Barry squeezed his hand. “Whatever you have to say, I promise that we will believe you.”

Hartley nodded, and Barry returned to his seat. The young Rathaway took a deep breath. “It started when I was a child. I was at a boarding school my parents had sent me to, studying on the grounds. Some older kids found me, and started to pick on me and tried to push me into a fight. Finally, one of them got tired and punched me. I don’t remember much of what happened after that, except my limbs were cold, like I was standing in a freezer.”

“What was the weather like?” Len asked. 

“Sunny and eighty degrees. I have no explanation. I blacked out, and when I woke up, I was in the nurse’s office, the police were there, and so were my parents.”

“From what we were told,” Mrs. Rathaway said, “Hartley jumped the boy. He put two of them in the hospital and one almost lost his eye.”

Mr. Rathaway cleared his throat. “We wrote it off as an isolated incident. When pushed too far, Hartley has a Rathaway temper. It didn’t happen again after that. Until six months ago.”

Barry frowned. “Six months?” 

Hartley nodded. “I was at a bar with some friends, and this jackass came up to me running his mouth. I remembered this time--I remember how scared he looked when I came at him. I remember my friends yelling for me to stop while I tore into him with my fingers. And I remember the cold. Just like before.”

“Were the police called?” Len asked. 

“It was taken care of,” Mr. Rathaway answered for him. “The man received the best medical care money can buy.”

“And then what?” Barry asked, his eyes locked on Hartley. 

Hartley bit his lip. “I was upstairs with Davi--with Mr. Singh. We were...going over security for a fundraiser I’d helped plan. The second the cold washed over me, I ran. I locked myself in the bathroom and when I woke up, there were claw marks on the door. The sink was busted. The bath tiles were ripped out of the wall. If I hadn’t locked myself away, I would’ve killed him. That’s what it wanted me to do--what it  _ wants  _ me to do. Become a killer.”

“The papers mentioned that you ‘turned’ at that fundraiser. It was the charity for the deaf and blind, right?” Len said, leaning forward. 

Hartley sighed. “I never should’ve gone. I was  _ on stage.  _ The cold hit me. I ran off stage, but David couldn’t get me out in time. At least twenty people in the lobby saw. Someone took a picture--that horrible thing on the tabloids. I haven’t been able to leave the house since.”

Barry pursed his lips in thought. “Mr. and Mrs. Rathaway, can we speak to Hartley in private, please? I have a personal question that he may not answer truthfully in your presence, but it is of the utmost importance.”

They didn’t seem too happy about it, but the couple left the room, heading toward the back of the house. Barry waited until their footsteps were near-silent echoes before speaking again.

“Hartley, are you and David Singh romantically or sexually involved?”

Hartley’s eyes widened. Len nearly choked on his own spit. 

“You don’t have to lie to us,” Barry assured. “We aren’t the Church, just liaisons. We will not judge you because of who you love.”

“Mostly because we’re not hypocrites,” Len interjected, and Barry swatted at him. 

Hartley relaxed, though. After a few seconds, he gave a small nod. 

Barry sighed. “This is a more awkward question, but were you two having sex when you transformed in your room?”

A red tint stretched across Hartley’s nose. Barry was really going for blood or something. Hartley nodded again. 

“Sometimes, the supernatural attack at your most vulnerable moments,” Barry explained. “In other instances, you were angry or upset. Now that I know you were in another vulnerable point, it’ll be easier for me to figure out what’s going on.”

Hartley opened his mouth to reply, but the butler reappeared before he could say another word. 

“Sirs, Mr. and Mrs. Rathaway have extended an invitation for the pair of you to stay in the guest house. There is only one bedroom, but the couch is comfortable, so I’m told.”

Hartley practically jumped to his feet. “I’ll show them the way, Rockwell.”

‘Rockwell’ gave a small bow and left. Len and Barry followed Hartley out of the front door and to the left. There were gardens, one with a twisted hedge labyrinth, and a single-family house just on the other side. 

Len’s eyes widened. “ _ This  _ is your guest house?”

Hartley frowned. “Is it enough for the two of you?”

Barry laughed. “Hartley, I grew up in an orphanage sharing a room with ten other boys. I think this will do just fine.”

A joyful smile appeared on Hartley’s face, and it warmed Len’s heart. To see someone so distressed and hopeless smile and laugh was one of the best feelings one could have. 

\--------

“So, tomorrow, we need to talk to the police officers involved in the public incidents,” Len called out from the bedroom as he pulled on his sleep shirt. “We need to know what they think they saw and the legitimacy of the Rathaways’ claims.”

“You still think that it’s a hoax?” Barry called from the bathroom. Len heard him cut out the light and step into the doorway behind him. 

“I don’t know what to think. That’s why were going to ask around tomorrow.” He turned, and his mouth watered. 

Barry was in a tight sleep shirt and fitted boxer briefs that left almost nothing to Len’s imagination. He’d been trying to keep things slow with Barry--he knew this Barry’s first real relationship. He didn’t want to scare Barry or make him feel like he had to do anything he wasn’t ready for. But,  _ damn _ , did he make it hard sometimes. 

Barry, poor innocent thing, didn’t even seem to notice what he was doing as he walked over to the bedside table and put on his glasses. Len smirked. “Have I ever told you that I love it when you wear those?”

Barry rolled his eyes, but Len could see the little pink blush on his cheeks. “Shut up. I only have them because I can’t wear contacts to bed.” 

Len smirked and sauntered to his boyfriend. “Well, I think,” he said, taking Barry’s chin in his fingers, “that they make you look even more beautiful.”

Barry’s blush deepened. “Stop.”

Len chuckled, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his boyfriend’s lips. As he pulled away, Barry followed him for a second, his eyes fluttering. “You take the bed,” Len whispered. “I’ll take the couch.”

Before Barry could argue, Len rushed out of the bedroom. He knew Barry was going to insist they share, but there was no way he could chastely do that tonight. 

\----------

The first place they stopped at the next morning was the police precinct that had been called when Hartley attacked the man at the bar. Len stood back, smirking, while Barry tried to question the cops outside. Each time he asked if they’d seen a wolf, they broke out into laughs. 

Sighing, Barry slumped back to Len’s side. “I don’t get it. What’s so funny?”

He almost felt bad. Almost. He pointed to the sign of a nearby tavern--The Wolf and Shepherd. There was even a giant wolf carved into the sign. He groaned. 

“Are you kidding?”

Len put his arm around Barry’s shoulder and pulled him close. “Why don’t you let me ask the questions?”

Barry pouted, and Len couldn’t resist stealing a kiss. Then, he pulled away and headed towards the officers themselves. “Excuse me!” 

The bobbies or whatever they called them in London turned to face him. “I’m here on behalf of the Vatican. We’ve heard reports of attacks made by a young man. Who could I speak to about that?” 

The men straightened up in a way they hadn’t with Barry. “You’ll want to talk to Inspector Rider. She was the arresting officer.”

Len frowned. “Arresting?”

“Mr. Rathaway was arrested for battery and assaulting a police officer,” a brunette woman stepping out of the station said. “Lucky for him, the head of security for the Rathaways is the chief of police’s ex-husband. He was able to pull some strings and get the charges dropped, so long as his family paid for the medical bills.”

Sounded like some kind of rich nonsense. “I’m assuming you’re Inspector Rider?”

She nodded. “Gideon Rider, at your service. I’m also off the clock, so if you want to talk, it’ll have to be over a pint at the Wolf.” 

“Mind if my partner tags along?” he asked, motioning at Barry behind him. “We’re kind of a package deal.” 

She nodded. “Of course. Ask your boyfriend over. We can all have drinks and talk about wolfmen.” 

Len waved Barry over to join them, and the three headed to the pub. 

\----------

“It was like nothing I’d ever seen,” Gideon explained. “I’m not a superstitious person, but what I saw...I can’t explain it. His ears came to a point. His nails grew into claws. His teeth were fangs. His eyes...I never want to see eyes like that again.”

Barry widened his eyes. “He actually became a wolfman?”

“Whatever he was, it was inhuman.” 

Len raised an eyebrow. “Not human? You’re quick to believe that.”

“Trust me—if you saw what I saw, you’d believe it, too.” She took a long drink from her mug of beer. “You’ve seen Mr. Rathaway, I’m sure? He picked a man three times his size over his head and threw him across the bar. He almost ripped another man’s throat out with his nails. And then, there’s the video.” 

That really got Len’s attention, Barry noticed. Gideon pulled out her phone and handed it across the table to Barry. The video playing on it was shaky and a little blurry, but what it showed was clear--Hartley Rathaway picked a man three times his size over his head and threw him like he was nothing. Then, he looked at the camera. His eyes were electric blue.

“Fuck.” 

Len startled at Barry’s language but recognized what was happening. Barry saw something in the video--something neither he nor Gideon could. Something that scared him.

They didn’t stay in the bar much longer, and Barry practically ran down the street to flag down a taxi. Len was running up behind him when a cab finally pulled over. 

“Barry? What’s wrong? What did you see in that video?”

“Something bad.”

\----------

“From the video Gideon showed us,” Barry yelled back at Len as he rushed into their bedroom, “I think we’re dealing with a very powerful demon. Eyes like that--I’ve seen them before.” 

He went for his suitcase, tucked under the bed. Len paused in the doorway to catch his breath. At first, Len thought he was going to start packing, but instead, Barry unzipped the front compartment and pulled out an old book. 

“Jay gave this to me before we left. It’s a diary of all his knowledge of demonic entities, including exorcisms that can banish them.”

Len frowned. “You think this demon is like your demon? That it somehow latched onto Hartley as a child and is tormenting him?” 

Barry nodded as he flipped through the book. “It probably wants to wear him down and alienate him--make him weak and vulnerable so that it can take his body and soul.”

Len crossed his arms over his chest. “So, why now? Why start attacking people?”

“Not sure,” Barry replied. “Maybe it wasn’t strong enough, or maybe Hartley didn’t have anything it could take away to break him until now.” 

The way he said that was solemn, and Len knew he was thinking about his demon. He wasn’t dumb--he knew Barry was more worried about Eobard than he let on, and this demon was hitting too close to home for him. 

Barry paused his flipping. “There’s a passage here on my demon, but Jay doesn’t really say much about him except that he believed him to be a Prince of Hell--one of the most powerful kinds of demons in existence.”

“I don’t suppose Jay says how to exorcise one, does he?” 

Barry pursed his lips, that cute wrinkle he got on his nose when he was thinking hard prominent. “There’s an exorcism in here for high-level demons, but I’m not sure if it would even work on a Prince of Hell.”

“We may not have a choice,” Len replied. “If we’re right, that demon won’t stop until it breaks Hartley and kills someone. With us here, it knows it’s in danger. It might be getting antsy, accelerating its time table.”

Barry sighed. “If we try to exorcise it with the wrong ritual, though, it won’t do any good, and we might miss our chance. It might lash out.” 

Len took a deep breath and weighed his options. On one hand, things could go horribly wrong if they did something. On the other, things could go horribly wrong if they didn’t. He looked at Barry--the man who always seemed to know the right thing to do, who had been second-guessing himself ever since Clyde Mardon’s suicide. 

Honestly, he wasn’t sure where Barry’s head was, and Barry was a hell of a lot more enticing to any demon than him or Hartley Rathaway. What if, in Barry’s vulnerable state, it tried to take him instead? Len couldn’t risk it. They needed to get rid of that thing immediately.

“I say we give it a shot.” Barry turned to him with a frown. Len shrugged. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? We’ve faced long odds before and came out on top.”

Barry bit his lip nervously. “Yeah, but a  _ Prince of Hell _ , Len. That’s...way more than anything we’ve ever faced.”

Len strolled slowly over to the bed and grabbed Barry’s hand. He pressed a kiss to the palm. “Together, we can do anything. I believe that. Do you?” 

Barry nodded and rose to his feet. He cupped Len’s cheeks softly and leaned in to kiss him. It was so gentle, so pure, like everything Barry was poured into the kiss. Len wrapped his arms around his love’s waist and tugged him closer. 

After a few minutes, he forced himself back--though only enough to rest his forehead on Barry’s. “God, I love you.” 

The laugh that escaped Barry’s lips was light and a little shy. It warmed Len down to his toes. He thought about kissing him again--letting his hands wander, leading Barry over to the bed, and showing him just how much he loved him. 

He would’ve, had it not been for the bloodcurdling scream that cut through their calm. Barry jumped five feet in the air and out of Len’s arms. “That sounded like Mrs. Rathaway.” 

Without even waiting for Len, he bolted for the door. Len groaned--as much as he loved Barry, he hated his instinct to run towards danger.

\----------

Barry skidded to a stop in the living room, not believing his eyes. Hartley Rathaway was in the middle of the room. His father was splayed out, unconscious on the floor. His mother cowered beside him. Singh stood between Hartley and his parents. 

Hartley, however, was no longer Hartley. His ears came to a point. Fur covered his face, neck, and hands. His teeth came to sharp ends, as did his nails. His eyes shined electric blue.

He was going to kill Singh. That was why the demon was acting out again. It wanted Hartley to kill his lover. Barry did the only thing he could think to do--he dove at Singh, tackling him to the ground just as Hartley pounced. 

The wolf missed Singh. It didn’t miss Barry. 

Claws caught Barry’s pant leg, pulling him to a stop and dragging him back to Hartley. Barry used his other leg to kick out at the wolf’s face. He struck him in the nose, surprising him long enough to crawl backward. 

“Barry!” 

Barry looked back at the door, where Len was standing with Jay’s diary. Quickly, the demonologist flipped it open and began praying. “In the Name of Jesus Christ, our God and Lord, strengthened by the intercession of the Immaculate Virgin Mary, Mother of God, of Blessed Michael the Archangel, of the Blessed Apostles Peter and Paul and all the Saints, and powerful in the holy authority of our ministry, we confidently undertake to repulse the attacks and deceits of the devil.”

The demon barely gave Len a sideway’s glance. Its attention had turned from Singh but was now completely focused on Barry. Crouching onto hands and feet, it stalked towards him, eyes lighting up even brighter. 

“Angel of God,” Barry whispered, sliding away on his butt as the demon came closer, “my guardian dear, to who God’s love commits me here. Ever this day be at my side, to light and guard and rule and guide.”

It was right on top of him, teeth snarling and claws slashing. Barry clenched his fists. He’d faced off against Eobard--this demon wasn’t going to scare him. 

“Who are you?!” he screamed. Behind Hartley, Len stumbled back a step at the shout, but Barry felt power flowing through him, burning in his veins. It scorched like fiery rage, giving him the strength to stand and stare Hartley’s demon down. “ _ What’s your name? What do you want?” _

The demon growled, but Barry stayed strong. All of a sudden, Hartley roared in his face, his lips curling back to reveal his long fangs. The sound reverberated through Barry’s head, knocking him backward. He was almost positive his ears were bleeding, but the roaring continued, until everything went dark. 

He wasn’t sure how long he was out--seconds? Minutes? Either way, when he forced his eyes open, Len was kneeling over him. Hartley was passed out beside him, with Singh giving him the same attention Len gave Barry. The Rathaways were nowhere to be seen.

“What happened?” he groaned, forcing himself to sit up. 

Len touched his cheek. “You screamed at the demon. It screamed back at you. Then, you grabbed a pen and scribbled something on your arm. I thought it might be the name of the demon, but it doesn’t seem like it.” 

He took Barry’s left arm and flipped it over to show his forearm. There were scribbles up and down it, but no letters or words. He sighed.

“Is Hartley okay?”

Singh nodded. “Yeah. He just passed out. He should be okay, though.” He scooped the young man in his arms, and Len frowned. 

“He just tried to kill you, yet you’re sticking around, taking care of him?”

Singh shrugged. “It’s what you do when you’re crazy about someone. You accept them--demons and all.” 

He carried Hartley up the stairs, leaving Barry and Len alone. 

“We need to leave.” Len’s words took Barry by surprise. 

Barry shook his head. “No. Hartley needs us, Len. This thing is going to kill the man he loves and then steal his soul. We can’t turn our backs on him.”

A frown marred Len’s face as he grabbed Barry by both wrists. “He almost killed  _ you,  _ Barry! I couldn’t do anything--nothing I did was helping. I thought that...that... _ thing  _ was going to rip your throat out! I still don’t know why it didn’t. I’m not losing you over this, Barry. I’m  _ not _ .”

Before Barry could reply, Len stormed out the door. 

\----------

Len didn’t go back to the guest house. Barry sat on the bed for hours, waiting for him to come back. He bit his lip, unsure of what he was supposed to do. Try to exorcise the demon alone? He wasn’t a demonologist. Sure, he’d assisted, but he didn’t know how to  _ lead  _ an exorcism. 

Barry gnawed on his thumbnail. What if Len didn’t come back? What if he booked a flight back home and left him? He curled up on the bed and forced himself to close his eyes. Maybe, when he woke up, Len would be back, and they could actually talk. 

He let his mind drift away, no dreams weighing him as he slipped into a dark slumber. 

It must have been hours later when he heard the door to the room creak open and footsteps enter. Relief settled in his chest--at least Len was back. They could discuss it all in the morning. 

He peeked an eye open. Len’s shadowy figure slid into the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. Barry grinned. “I’m sorry. I’m glad you came back.”

Len didn’t answer. Instead, he turned to look at Barry, and all that relief dissipated into smoke. His eyes were yellow. 

Barry tried to sit up, tried to move away, but his entire body was stiff.  _ Sleep paralysis,  _ he realized.  _ It’s a dream, just like on the plane. It’s not real. _

Eobard chuckled, dropping to his knees on the bed. “Not this time, Barry.” He started crawling towards the head of the bed slowly. “I thought I should come visit. Maybe you could use some divine intervention.”

Barry sneered. “There’s nothing ‘divine’ about you.” 

Luckily, Eobard laid out beside him instead of mimicking Barry’s nightmare from before. He propped himself on his elbow and shrugged a shoulder. “Eh, close enough.”

“What are you doing here?” he demanded through gritted teeth. To be honest, he was terrified out of his mind. He couldn’t move, and the demon who had stalked him his entire life was pressed against his side with the face of the man he loved. 

A smirk pulled at Eobard’s lips. “I saw your little lover at the pub down the road, drinking himself into a stupor, and I thought I should come and see how you’re doing. How’s Hartley Rathaway’s little werewolf problem?” 

Barry’s eyes widened. “How do you know about that? How did you even  _ find me _ here?”

“Did you really think that coming here would stop me from finding you? From finding Snart?” Eobard asked with a laugh. 

Barry clenched his fists, anger bleeding through him. “Leave him alone.”

Eobard sucked his teeth. “Can’t do that. He’s connected to you, which makes him mine just as much as you are.”

“You’re behind this, aren’t you?”

“Now, Barry,” he scolded, like Barry was some child, “not  _ every  _ demonic event is my doing. Especially not one quite so... _ animalistic _ .”

Barry frowned. “But that demon’s like you. That’s why its eyes looked like that.”

The demon scrunched his face thoughtfully and shrugged. “I suppose by your standards that’s true. By demonic standards, we’re leagues apart. For instance, he’s a lot easier to banish than me.”

He knew it was a long shot, but he had to ask. “How?”

“You need to get power over him,” Eobard explained. “And to get that, you only need one thing.”

“His name.”

Eobard tilted his head and smiled. “Not just a pretty face. I knew you wouldn’t be a disappointment.”

“Wouldn’t suppose you’d tell me what that name was?” Barry dared, and Eobard started to cackle.

“Now, that would take all the fun out of it. Don’t you see what this is? It’s a test. One for you and your lover...well, I guess not lover much longer, huh, Barry?” 

“That’s none of your business,” Barry growled.

“But it  _ is. _ ” His eyes flashed almost red. “Everything about you is my business. Which is why I’m going to leave you with a clue--you know his name. He isn’t strong enough to resist a demand quite like that one you gave him in the Rathaway’s living room.”

The skin on his arms crawled. “You were watching me?”

“All the time.” He bared his teeth in another smile, only this one seemed practically feral. “I need to make sure you’re ready, after all. The demon told you his name when you asked. You just need to remember what it is.”

Barry frowned. “Why are you telling me this?” 

His eyes narrowed, and he shifted so that he was hovering over Barry. He grabbed Barry’s chin, his nails digging into his skin. “Because you’re  _ mine, _ Barry Allen. I went through great lengths to ensure your conception, to make sure you were  _ perfect _ . I’m not letting some parasite take what’s mine when I’m so close.”

“So close to what?” Barry demanded. “What are you after, Eobard?”

A smirk pulled across the demon’s lips. “I think I’ll keep that to myself. For now, I think it’s time you woke up.”

Without warning, he brought his lips to Barry’s, forcing Barry to keep his head in place. 

The world blew up with light, blinding Barry so he had to turn away. Behind his eyelids, he saw images--an old castle surrounded by crosses; Len kneeling in the center of a painted circle with his head thrown back, his eyes white and mouth gaped open; Len’s dead, broken body at Barry’s feet, Eobard hovering over them.

Then, he forced himself to open his eyes again with a scream. He still couldn’t move, only now, it was more like ropes around his limbs, pulling him down. He thrashed against them, his screams raising and echoing even louder. 

The door to the bedroom swung open, and someone rushed inside. 

“Barry!” They grabbed him by the shoulders. Len was staring down at him...but no, he wasn’t falling for that again. 

“Get  _ off of me!”  _ he hollered, kicking out at the demon and pushing him away. “Let me go!  _ Let me go!”  _

“Barry!” His wrists were grabbed tight, and Barry screamed even louder. “Barry, it’s me!”

The sharpness in the tone snapped him back. He wasn’t dreaming anymore. There were no ropes--only the sheets he’d accidentally wrapped around himself. There was no demon, and Len’s eyes were just as striking blue as ever. 

He threw his arms around Len’s neck and buried his face. All the relief turned to confusion and surprise when he smelled his shirt.

“Len,” he said, pulling back a bit, “are you  _ drunk _ ?”

Len didn’t reply, but his eyes were glassy, he smelled like a liquor store, and he was swaying slightly. He wasn’t just drunk--he was hammered. 

Barry thought back to the stories that Len told him about his dad--the drunk abuser who showed his love with his fists, especially after a night in the bar. Len was always afraid of turning out like him, so he never got drunk. 

“Len…”

“I don’t want to hear it, Barry,” he groaned, narrowing his eyes. “I just...I wanna go to bed.” He rolled off the bed and moved to leave, but Barry grabbed his wrist to stop him. 

“Please stay,” he whispered. “We don’t have to talk about it right now, but...I don’t want to be alone.”

The irritated expression Len wore faded, and he hung his head. “Yeah.” He laid back, still in clothes and shoes, and curled up beside Barry. He kept his distance, enough so there was almost five inches between them, but the fact he was there meant everything to Barry. Within minutes, Len was asleep.

Barry rolled over to his left side to face him, head resting on his arm. He hated being the reason Len broke his personal vow. Len’s brow was furrowed in distress, and Barry could only guess what he was dreaming about. He reached out slowly and brushed his fingers across the harsh lines on his face. 

“I’m here,” he whispered. The lines began to smooth as Len relaxed. “I’m always going to be here.” 

He sighed. He’d never loved anyone like he loved Len. The thought of hurting him made his heartache. He remembered what Eobard said--no matter how far he ran, or how hard he pushed Len away, he’d always come for him. He was marked for death for nothing more than being the object of Barry’s affections. 

Barry lowered his eyes. How terrible it was to have your own existence hurt the ones you love. Something caught his eye, drawing him out of his pity party. The marks he’d made on his arm during the exorcism were still there, but now, he could see that, when the marks he’d made were against a flat surface, they formed what looked like letters. 

He squinted his eyes, hoping to make sense of the word. 

N-O-M-O-L-O-Z

He frowned. That didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Nomoloz? That wasn’t even a word. He sighed--maybe he was going crazy. 

“Len?” he whispered. Len groaned a reply. “I think...I think you’re right. We should go home.”

Len hummed again, and Barry could tell he was long gone into his slumber. He rolled over and grabbed his phone off the bedside table. Dialing a quick number, he pressed it to his ear. 

On the third ring, Uncle Jay answered.  _ “Hey, Bare. You okay? Isn’t it almost three am there?” _

“Yeah,” Barry replied quietly. “I just wanted to let you know that Len and I have decided to come home. I’m going to get us tickets for tomorrow. We’ll let the church know this is a genuine possession, and they can deal with the exorcism from there.”

_ “Doesn’t sound like you. Everything alright?” _

“Not really,” he answered honestly. “This is more dangerous than we thought and...I’m scared if we stay, something bad is going to happen.” 

_ “Bad like what?” _

He glanced over at Len, still sleeping. Sighing, he moved out of bed and towards the window. When he looked out through the curtains, he could see the back of the main house. There were two shadows in one of the windows, one holding the other, and Barry’s heart lurched. 

“I…” he dropped his voice, just in case Len wasn’t as asleep as he seemed, “I had a vision.” He specifically forgot to mention where it came from. 

_ “Another one? Barry, this is the second vision in less than a year.” _

“I know. That’s why I’m worried. Twice I’ve been shown the same thing, and I’m terrified, Uncle Jay. For the first time in my life, I have something to hold onto, but I’m so scared it’s about to get pulled out from under me.”

_ “What did you see, Barry?”  _

Barry blew out a shuddered breath. “I saw Eobard kill Len. He was taunting me with his body at his feet. He told me that it doesn’t matter what I do--he’s going to kill Len just because I love him, and I don’t know how to stop him. It’s like no matter what I do, Len’s going to get hurt because of me. I just...I don’t know what to do.” 

There was a sigh on the other end of the line.  _ “Barry, this is my fault. Not yours.” _

Barry frowned. “My dad said the same thing--that it’s yours, his, and my mom’s fault. What’s your fault? What happened?” 

There was silence, followed by another sigh.  _ “I’ll tell you soon, just...it’s not a phone call conversation. But when you get home...we’ll talk. I promise.” _

Barry knew it was impossible to get anything out of Jay he wasn’t willing to give. 

_ “What I can tell you now is--don’t let what this demon says or wants make your decisions for you. That’s how it wins. It’s scared of the power between you two--reinforce that. And stop putting yourself in harm’s way. Your boyfriend drunk texts, and I don’t know why he thinks I’m someone named ‘Mick’.” _

Barry snorted and quickly covered his mouth to smother a laugh. “I’ll let him know. Why does he even have your number?”

_ “Someone has to keep me in the loop with what you’re up to, and you can be spacey, Bare.” _

He rolled his eyes and bid his uncle goodbye before hanging up. He cast one last glance at the window, hoping to see some sign that everything would be alright. That’s when his eyes caught the writing on his arm. 

Barry squinted, not sure if what he was reading was real, but when he finally realized what he was seeing, he grinned wildly. Good news, at last. 

\----------

Len woke up the next morning with his mouth tasting like the bottom of a shoe and his head pounding like a drum. He forced his eyes open, frowning when he noticed he was lying in bed instead of on the couch. He thought back to the night before--the failed exorcism, thinking he’d almost gotten Barry killed, drinking his feelings away, coming home to Barry screaming…

The clicking of a keyboard settled his nerves. He rolled over to see Barry lying beside him in bed, glasses resting on the end of his nose and computer in his lap. 

“Barry…”

“There are two Advil on the table next to you and a glass of water,” Barry interrupted, eyes still on his computer. “Last night, I figured it out. The demon’s name--I know it because I asked, and it  _ told me _ . I wrote it on my arm, but it was a little choppy and backward, so it looked like gibberish. But now, I’ve figured it out. The exorcism didn’t work not because of you, but because we used the wrong one. The thing we’re dealing with isn’t a Prince of Hell. It’s a  _ Hellhound _ , servants of Princes of Hell. That’s why he looked so similar.”

Len’s eyes widened. That made a lot of sense. “That’s why the wolf.” 

“Exactly. I’ve been making calls and sending emails all night to some exorcists and priests Uncle Jay knows to see if they know anything that could help us. Most have never heard of a hellhound possessing anyone, but one of them, a nun named Joan Williams, says that she’s found some research on hellhound possession. She’s emailing it to me now.” 

Len sat up quickly, but the swimming of his head knocked him back down again. 

“Advil,” Barry reminded him, pointing to the bedside table. Len sighed, but obeyed, tossing both pills into his mouth and swallowing them dry. 

“So, what do we do? Just yell its name at Hartley and make it go away?”

Barry finally looked away from the computer, meeting Len’s eyes with a worried expression. “No, the demon has to be present. Meaning that Hartley has to be a wolf.” 

There went the other shoe. Len shook his head. “Hell, no. There is no way I’m letting you anywhere near that thing again. It almost killed you, Barry.”

“It didn’t, though.” He moved his computer off his lap and rolled to his side, laying a hand on Len’s cheek. “We weren’t ready last time, but we’re going to be. Joan Williams is sending me an exorcism, I have the name, and we’re going to be side-by-side this time. We’re stronger together.”

His eyes twinkled in the early morning light, and all Len could think about was the first time he saw those gorgeous eyes. He laid his hand over Barry’s and nodded. “Together.”

Barry leaned forward and kissed him slowly. 

\----------

Instead of meeting in the living room, Barry and Len invited Hartley and Singh into the guest house for the exorcism. Hartley tried to argue against Singh’s presence, but Barry convinced him that they needed him. 

“When it gets tough,” he explained, draping a rosary around Hartley’s neck, “you might need reminding what you’re fighting for.” 

Hartley sat in a chair in the living area. Barry sat across from him in another chair, with Len standing at his left and Singh at his right. 

“I’m speaking to the entity inside of Hartley. Show yourself. You weren’t shy about revealing yourself before. What’s got you spooked now?”

Nothing happened. Hartley sat still as a statue, with no sign of change. He just shifted a little in his seat, like the attention was making him uncomfortable. 

Barry sighed. “It’ll be a lot easier on you if we don’t have to force you out.” 

Len pulled a flask out of his pocket with a cross on it. Still, nothing. Barry leaned back in his chair and nodded to Len. 

Hartley hissed as holy water hit his skin. His eyes turned electric blue, and tiny dark hairs began to grow on his face. Singh stepped forward, distressed by the man he loved’s pain, but Barry held out a hand to stop him. 

“It’s the only way, David.” 

Len threw more holy water, and Hartley threw back his head and howled. “Barry, start reading.” 

Barry nodded, pulling out the paper with the exorcism Joan Williams sent him. “Exsúrgat Deus et dissipéntur inimíci ejus: et fúgiant qui odérunt eum a fácie ejus. Sicut déficit fumus defíciant; sicut fluit cera a fácie ígnis, sic péreant peccatóres a fácie Dei.”

Hartley thrashed in the chair, and Len and Singh ran over to hold him down. 

“Júdica Dómine nocéntes me; expúgna impugnántes me. Confundántur et revereántur quaeréntes ánimam meam,” Barry continued. “Avertántur retrórsum et confundántur, cogitántes míhi mála. Fíant táamquam púlvis ante fáciem vénti: et Ángelus Dómini coárctans eos. Fiat via illórum ténebrae, et lúbricum: et Ángelus Dómini pérsequens eos. Quóniam grátis abscondérunt míhi intéritum láquei sui: supervácue exprobravérunt ánimam meam. Véniat illi láqueus quem ignórat; et cáptio quam abscóndit, aprehéndat eum: et in láqueum cádat in ipsum. Ánima áutem mea exsultábit in Dómino: et delectábitur super salutári suo. Glória Pátri, et Fílio, et Spirítui Sancto. Sícut érat in princípio et nunc et semper, et in saécula saéculórum. Amen.”

Hartley was full wolfman now. He pulled against Len and Singh’s grips, trying to throw them off. Len was struggling to keep his grip, and Singh was practically laying on top of Hartley to keep him down. 

“Barry, hurry up!” Len growled. 

“ Proeliáre hódie cum beatórum Angelórum exércitu proélia Dómini, sícut pugnásti ólim contra dúcem supérbiae lucíferum et ángelus éjus apostáticos; et non valuérunt, néque lócus invéntus est eórum ámplius in caélo. Sed projéctus est dráco ílle mágnus, sérpens antíquus, qui vocátur diábolus et sátanas, qui sedúcit univérsum órbem; et projéctus est in térram, et ángeli éjus cum íllo míssi sunt…”

Suddenly, the wolf reared. Len was thrown backward, and Singh slipped off the wolf. Hartley turned to him, and Barry didn’t even think. He threw himself off the chair to stand between Hartley and Singh. 

“Don’t!” Len shouted, but Barry faced off against the wolf, unafraid. 

“Your name gives me power over you, demon,” he shouted. “I know your name! In the power of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, I condemn you-- _ Zolomon _ \--back to hell!” 

The wolf’s eyes widened. It fell to the floor, snarling and clawing at its own fur. It started to shed in clumps, and Hartley began to whine. 

Finally, it was done. The hair was gone. The animal had vanished. Hartley knelt on the floor, clothes ripped and tears rolling down his cheeks--but  _ alive. _

Len and Barry both blew out relieved sighs. Singh rushed to his lover’s side. “Hartley! Are you okay?”

A small groan came out of Hartley, and he raised his head. “That hurt…”

Singh laughed, throwing his arms around Hartley’s neck and dragging him into a bone-crushing hug. Len stood and walked over to Barry’s side, taking his hand. “That wasn’t so hard.” 

\----------

Hartley tried to get them to stay longer, but Len told him that they had to get home. “I gotta finish a date that was interrupted by this little fiasco,” he joked, giving the young man a pat on the shoulder. 

Barry helped Singh load their bags into the car, chatting happily as they worked. Hartley and Len watched them, and the former sighed. “I don’t know how we’re going to come back from this. Who wants to stay with someone that had a demon attached to them?” 

Len resisted the urge to laugh. Barry was right there--alive and beautiful and bright, even with all the darkness that hung over him. He thought about that night in the pub, where he’d questioned every bit of their relationship, wondering if it was worth it to follow through. He remembered the man who’d approached him--tall, with dark hair and glasses on his nose, probably not much older than Len. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” the stranger had said. 

Len wanted to grumble, tell him to ‘go away’, but something made him stop in his tracks. Instead, he sighed. “Relationship troubles.”

The man nodded. “Of course. That’s why most men are here. Thinking about whether or not love is worth the fights, the heartache, the pain of it all.” 

“Something like that,” Len agreed, downing his drink. 

The man waved down the bartender and ordered a gin. “Can I offer you some unsolicited advice?” He didn’t wait for a response before continuing. “Fifteen years ago, I was married to the love of my life. A year later, she died in an accident. I had to sit in a car with her body for an hour while the paramedics tried to get me out, and all I could think was how I loved her, how I wished she was still there with me. I still think it, everyday. When you meet that one person you love more than anything else, nothing else matters except them being right at your side.”

Those words lingered with Len now, watching Barry pack up. He thought about the phone call he made to Lisa not long after, about what she’d dug up for him and was holding onto until they got home. 

“I think that demons are a small price to pay for love. And I believe David over there is willing to pay it if you’ll let him.”

Hartley smiled warmly as he stared at Singh, and deep down, Len knew the two of them were going to be alright. 

The flight home was as uneventful as the flight there. Len slept and listened to his audiobook, while Barry held his hand or read or watched movies. He removed his mask when the plane landed and glanced over at Barry, who was sleeping with his head resting on Len’s shoulder. 

He checked his phone, which had a notification from Lisa. 

** _From: Lis_ **

_ What do you want me to do with this? _

_ Attachment: 1 Image _

He smiled at the picture and shot a quick text back. 

** _To: Lis_ **

_ Keep it with you. I’ll come by tomorrow and pick it up.  _

** _From: Lis_ **

_ When are you gonna do it? _

He looked down at Barry and pressed a kiss to his head.

** _To: Lis_ **

_ Soon as I can.  _

He tucked his phone away and woke Barry up. He opened his eyes with a tiny groan that made Len’s heart flutter. “Come on,” he whispered, kissing him again. “Let’s go home.” 

\----------

Barry walked into his apartment, suitcase in hand, with Len right behind him with the rest of his bags. 

“It’s good to be home,” Barry sighed, glancing around his modest apartment. 

Len hummed in agreement. “No wolfman or hellhounds. Just ordinary demons and ghosts.”

Barry resisted the urge to laugh. He bit his lip nervously. He knew what he wanted to ask Len, but…

Len leaned against the entryway to the kitchen and smirked. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Barry shrugged, stepping closer. “I was just thinking…you know you can stay the night here. I mean, it’s late. We could...spend more time together.” 

Len pushed off the wall and met Barry halfway. “Like, watching a movie?” he asked, grabbing him by the hips and pulling him closer. “Playing a game?”

“Something like that,” Barry replied softly, throwing his arms over Len’s shoulders. He leaned in and kissed him slowly. 

Len pulled away for a split second, just to say, “You sure you’re ready?”

Barry laughed. “More than.” He kissed him again, deeply and lovingly, while Len’s hands dropped down to the front of his jeans. 

\----------

The beating on his motel room door jerked John Constantine out of his blackout. His vision was blurred and his memory fuzzy. The sweet, metallic scent of blood was all over him, though. That much he knew. 

“John Constantine!” came a shout from the other side of the door. “This is the Starling City Police Department. Come out, slowly, with your hands above your head!”

His vision started to sharpen, and Constantine gagged. All around him--on the bed, the floor, even draped over the sink, were half-naked, dead bodies, covered in blood. When he looked down at himself, he noticed a sigil painted in blood on his chest. 

That wasn’t good. 

The door busted in, and a squadron of SWAT officers came running inside, guns raised and pointed at him. He raised his arms above his head in surrender, not sure what was going on, but having one blaring thought echoing through his head. 

“Fuck.” 

  
  



End file.
